


a guide to confinement in the mindscape

by pinkberrygeek



Category: Gravity Falls, Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Adventure, Bill Cipher is Alive, Canon Compliant, Crossover, Epic Friendship, Multi, Mystery, Opposite of Redemption for Bill, Post Young Justice Endgame, Redemption, Science Fiction, The Speedforce - Freeform, Wally West is Alive, Weirdness, canon spoilers for those of ya'll not caught up, references to Gravity Falls, references to the DCU, tags will be constantly updated to avoid spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:01:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24472477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkberrygeek/pseuds/pinkberrygeek
Summary: Wally West doesn't die.He wakes up in a strange, white void, alone—save for one infuriatingly annoying, dorito-looking IMMORTAL BEING OF PURE ENERGY who offers Wally a chance at returning back home. But Bill's only willing to do it if Wally lets him into his head. To stay there, permanently.So. Not. Happening!
Relationships: Bill Cipher & Wally West
Comments: 1
Kudos: 18





	a guide to confinement in the mindscape

△

Your name is Wally West, and you know you’re dying.

The last thing you remember is telling Uncle Barry to _just tell them, okay,_ tell your loved ones the things you can’t possibly convey in the span of the second and a half you have left on this Earth.

You have so many things left to do, so many things left that you wanted to say. To Artemis. To Dick. Your family. Your team. Your friends. 

So many regrets. 

“KID!”

You hope Uncle Barry doesn’t feel bad. Or Bart. You loved them both (you regret not telling them so), but if this is the price to pay for saving the world, you don’t mind. A hero’s death, huh? You suppose there are worse ways to go.

Your body turns into _nothing_ , and the world turns a blinding white.

△

Wally awakens and regrets _everything_ , crying out in pain as his eyes are assaulted by the infuriatingly bright light from wherever it is he ended up. His goggles, the ol’ trusty speedster goggles, don’t work when he tries to turn on shade mode. He pushes them away from his face. 

Once his eyes adjust, he realises he’s not in the medbay, like he’d thought. The hope dies within him just as quickly as it had come. Hope that he’d somehow miraculously survived. The entirety of his surroundings are _blank_ , and there is _nothing_ he can see when he gets up, the colours of his Kid Flash suit being the only hints of anything other than the white _void_.

He remembers reading once that white was supposed to be soothing, a neutral colour often used in holding cells within mental health institutions and asylums to calm the mind. He had believed it.

Now? He’s not so sure. “How does anyone stay in a place like this without _really_ going mad?” He wonders aloud.

“Well, that’s just it, red. They _do_!”

Wally screams in shock, heart pounding impossibly (possibly) fast at being caught off-guard.

Spinning around, he comes face-to-face with a…

Well, he’s not entirely sure what _it_ is.

He gawks disbelievingly at the yellow, levitating triangle before him, making a startled yelp as it moves to float around his body in a lazy circle, a single eye keenly observing (those were really long lashes). It has a fancy-schmancy bow-tie, complete with a top hat and impossibly thin limbs. Two arms and two legs. Wally thinks this is weird. Very, very weird.

“You’re… talking,” Are the first words out of his mouth when he can manage them. The triangle thing looks almost disappointed (expressive, for a being with only an eye for a face).

“Yes, I’m _talking_. C’mon, red! Is that the best you’ve got?” The creature moves closer, invading his personal space. He tenses, in preparation for a fight.

“Oh please,” The thing looks insulted, its eye squinting. _Glaring_. “Don’t get your spandex in a bunch! You’re not the one who’s ETERNAL PRISON got invaded by a MORTAL MEATSACK dressed like mustard and ketchup.”

So many questions he wants to ask. But Wally settles for the most disturbing word he hears.

“Meatsack?” He cries with indignation. “Look who’s talking! You’re a floating… something!” Not exactly his best comeback, he’ll admit. Wally briefly wonders if this is a dream. He knocked his head against an iceberg after a bad fall and now he’s hallucinating. Not an impossible thought.

“I’m THE floating something, red. Remember that! The name’s Bill Cipher!”

It (or he?) offers a tiny hand, presumably for a friendly shake. The limb is black and the fingers comically short—until they _grow_ , nearly three times their size in order to match his human one. Perhaps he’s a meta, another person (being?) with stretchy-powers like Uncle Ralph. Or a new smart-mouthed alien species the team had overlooked during the chaos amidst The Reach’s attempts to destroy Earth.

Wally doesn’t take the hand (obviously) and Bill huffs, his lone eye morphing into a _tongue_ and blowing a huge raspberry in his face. Wally bites down the urge to scream at the horrifying visage.

“ _Sheesh!_ What’s a BEING OF PURE ENERGY like myself gotta do to get some respect around here, huh?”

Wally raises a sceptical eyebrow, his natural curiosity taking over. He attempts a step closer, reaching out to poke an edge of Bill’s impossibly thin and triangular body. Bill cackles as he bats Wally’s finger away. His touch is solid. Wally sighs. And there goes any hope of this being a hallucination. Dreams didn’t usually feel this real either. He was far too awake, too conscious of what was happening. A lucid dream, then?

Though Wally wonders, with a body that thin (about an inch or so wide) and small (the width of his hips, maybe), how Bill manages to function. Perhaps he was a robot. Or another (ugh) ‘magical’ being the League had yet to classify. Fate and Zatanna would have _loved_ to get their hands on him.

“Why don’t we cut to the chase, red? Are ya here for a little advice? What kind of intergalactic civil war to start? How to rearrange the functions on someone’s face? The workings of all infinite and infinitesimal dimensions? If so, then I’m your guy!”

Wally hears a _POOF!_ and suddenly he’s no longer standing, but instead seated comfortably in a plush recliner. Watching Bill Cipher casually sipping at a cup of tea. With his _eye_.

He’s not sure how Bill can do that without getting burned. Nothing makes sense. It is unsettling, a new kind of weirdness Wally never imagined he’d encounter (and given what he’d seen during his time as Kid Flash, that was saying a lot) (Klarion had nothing on this guy). There’s a similar cup laid out before him, on a decadent little coffee table, along with a fancy porcelain teapot. The liquid in the cup is steaming, piping hot. 

Wally doesn’t take the tea, instead choosing to focus on the words that had spilt out of Bill Cipher’s hypothetical mouth (no, seriously, why _didn’t_ he have a mouth?).

It takes him a second (literally a second) to absorb everything Bill had said.

“Dimensions? Intergalactic war? _Rearranging the functions on someone’s face_? Are you fucking crazy?” He could think fast, but his reactions came right after. And they were usually in poor taste. It earned Wally his signature moniker (Kid Mouth).

“Oh yeah, no doubt about that!” Bill admits, rather proudly. Like it was a compliment. He takes another sip of tea. “The CRAZIEST, in fact! Now get to the point, ya doof, I don’t have all day.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, or where I am,” Wally says, desperately wanting answers. “Is this real? Are _you_ even real? Because this... is _insane_.”

Bill rises to his tiny feet, padding up towards him and doing a little hop onto the coffee table. Wally finds it slightly endearing. Like watching a kitten.

“Gee, for a being whose body holds the power of INTERDIMENSIONAL TRAVEL, you sure are DUMB!”

Bill starts to laugh. And laugh. He’s laughing so hard, in fact, that the teacup he’s holding in his tiny black hand spills piping hot tea all over the table (he doesn’t seem bothered). His high-pitched voice eerily echoes throughout the void.

Wally never thought he’d hear a creepier laugh than Dick’s (back when he’d been Robin and things had been much, much saner). He’s just been proven wrong.

Also, he doesn’t know what’s so funny.

Bill pauses.

“It’s funny how dumb you are,” He explains, slow and condescending. Then goes right back to his impression of a deranged hyena. Wally feels his face colouring with embarrassment and anger. Could this _thing_ read minds? He imagines kicking Bill Cipher across the room (void?) and stepping on him mercilessly, just to test whether it offends his companion.

Thankfully, Bill does not respond. Wally exhales a sigh of relief. _Not_ telepathic at least.

“You’re wrong,” Wally starts to say, then hesitates. “Wait. I mean, I _do_ have powers, just not ‘interdimensional travel’ or whatever.” He punctuates the ludicrous phrase with air quotes. 

“WRONG!” Bill flies above his head, arms outstretched, both palms igniting blue flame. Wally is proud to say he doesn’t jump, this time. “Look around you, kid! Does this look like your normal plane of existence? Because as the being who MADE THIS PLACE, I’m pretty sure you’re, oh— **NOT FROM AROUND HERE.** ” His voice becomes demonically low (distorted) towards the end of his sarcastic tirade. It raises the hair on his arms, even with his suit on.

Wally quickly holds up his hands in surrender, not wanting to anger the Dorito-looking thing any further. 

“Okay, okay!” He concedes. Then the rebellious, stubborn part of him who refuses to admit defeat decides it's a good idea to add, “This _miiight_ just be a dream, anyway. No offence.” 

Bill—who had calmly settled back down in his chair to have a drink—spits his tea. All over the table, the teapot _and_ Wally. Who groans. Bleh! 

“A _dream_ , you say?” Oh boy. Wally does _not_ like that tone. Bill was plotting something. You could practically _feel_ it. “You wouldn’t happen to hail from FXD-482, would you? From a little town called **GRAVITY FALLS?** ” 

Wally’s not so sure he wants to answer, even though he really has no idea what Bill’s talking about (FXD-482? _What_?). He’s never heard of that place, either. But there’s wild desperation behind Bill’s eye and Wally decides it’s in his best interests to cooperate.

“I’ve… never heard of that place. Sorry.” 

“But you have _dreams_ , don’t you? The kinda dreams that appear when you snooze? C’mon, kid… ANSWER THE QUESTION!”

Wally yelps as Bill lunges and latches onto his head, little palms smacking his cheeks furiously. “Get off—OW! So not cool, dude!” The smackdown continues, despite Wally’s best attempts to de-Cipher himself (gigglesnort). A tiny finger jabs him in the eyeball. “FUCK! Okay, _fine_ —yes, we do have dreams. What’s the big deal, anyway? Everyone does.” 

This time, Bill’s eye glows a bright blue. 

“AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!”

The triangle cackles as he does a victory dance, twirling his cane around as he wildly swings his arms and feet. Wally swears he can hear jazz playing from somewhere in the background. It reminds him of the old 1920s dance moves he’d seen in the Great Gatsby. 

“Oh boy, do I feel SWELL! I had a hunch my plan worked!” 

Wally stands, crossing his arms. 

“What the hell are you talking about?” He’s going to need his head looked at by M’gann if he ever gets out of this place. He really hopes he’s not going crazy. Or maybe he already had. 

This ‘dream’ seemed a little _too_ odd, the sensations a tad too real. In fact, he could even feel the droplets of spat tea, cooling as they evaporated from his uniform (it had been a BIG spray). 

“Oh, man. This opens so many doors! Do you have any idea what it’s like to be expelled from existence? To be TRAPPED here with no hope of return?”

Wally sighs as the triangle continues his mad dance. Time has always felt different in dreams but this… this dream made it feel as though time didn’t exist at all. 

“I wish I would wake up,” Wally pinches himself, feeling the pain. Nothing happens. He knows he’s teetering dangerously close to denial. “You’re kind of creeping me out.” 

Bill finally stops dancing. Turns around to look at Wally, spinning his cane in skilful circles.

“I never got to asking, but what’s your name, kid?” 

Wally blinks at the sudden attention. 

“Uh, Wally.” He could almost hear Batman growling in his ear about being way too careless with his secret identity.

“Your _full_ name.” Bill rolls his eye. 

“Wallace Rudolph West. But you can call me Wally, o’ figment of my imagination.” He flops back onto the chair—only to find that the chair, along with the tea set Bill Cipher had conjured up earlier—had all but disappeared. He lands on the white floor (void?) with a painful ‘oof’. 

“Well, I’ve got a deal for ya, West! A chance for you to boost those brains and that little superpowered yet unfortunately MORTAL body of yours! I can be your source to everything you’ll ever need to know and your trusty third eye to see everything you’ll ever need to see!” 

Wally places a hand on his hip sceptically, a habit he’d picked up from Artemis (the queen of sassy, deadpan body language). “Uh-huh.”

Bill cackles. 

“Aw, don’t look so paranoid! You’d be surprised at what an IMMORTAL BEING over FIFTY MILLION YEARS OLD like myself could tell you! I’ve been across multiple universes; seen places you could only dream of! For example,” Bill flies at him. Wally refuses to move away (a dream couldn’t hurt you, right?) (sweet, sweet denial), and swipes a hand covered in blue flame across his body, examining something Wally can’t see. “Did you know that your powers come from the legendary dimension four? Controlled by an omnipotent being who curates the use of speed and time? Pretty swell power source, if I do say so myself!” 

Wally snorts. 

“Ha! Nice try, but I got my powers from an accident involving lightning and some… stuff.” He keeps mum about the chemicals, nearly letting the secret slip. Uncle Barry would have a conniption if he knew. “Not magical creatures from some mambo jumbo fairytale land.”

Bill isn’t deterred in the slightest. He actually looks a little exasperated. In fact, just like Zatanna, whenever she tried to explain to him the _finer workings_ of ‘magic’. 

“Yeah, an ACCIDENT which created a tear in your dimension and opened the gateway to dimension four. It _chose_ to save your life, red, I wouldn’t get fresh if I were you.” 

Wally just laughs. Save his life? His powers had done that! Speed healing! Enhanced by his hyper-accelerated metabolism! It is Bill’s turn to deadpan, unamused. 

“Why are you telling me this, anyway?” He asks, wiping a nonexistent tear from his eye. Dorito-thing was _hilarious_. “What do you want from me?” 

“What do I want? Well, kid, it’s pretty dang simple. I WANT OUT!!! I’m sick of being locked away in this stupid shoebox prison. Do you have any idea how boring it gets, being trapped here ALONE for ALL ETERNITY?” 

“Sounds like someone trapped you in here for a good reason,” Wally snorts. “Why should I help you get out?” 

Bill gives Wally another intense, calculating stare. 

“I can give you all the power and knowledge in the world that your little heart desires, Westie.” He tries to protest at the ridiculous nickname, but Bill pays him no mind. “I can make you faster, stronger, smarter, help you achieve whatever it is that you want to achieve. All I want from you in return is a TEENY TINY little living space in your mind. After you help me find my way back home.” 

It sounds more than suspicious. Like a bad sci-fi nightmare with a little madness thrown in. Wally covers his forehead with his hands, preparing himself for some unprecedented form of psychic attack. Just like magic, he’d had enough of _those_ to last a lifetime. He suppresses the memory of Psimon and Bialya with a shudder (stubborn denial had always been his strong suit, with undesired, long-lasting consequences). 

“What do you mean, back home? And if your plan is to get access to my brain then _no way, Jose!_ ” Wally protests, taking a few steps back. 

Bill sighs dramatically, sinking to the floor. The sudden changes in emotion were disarming—he could go from manic to excited to angry so quickly. Wally made a mental note to tread carefully, being vulnerable and alone. 

“I was trapped here by a TRAITOROUS MEATSACK I thought I could call a FRIEND,” Bill’s eye glows an ominous red. Angry again. “He USED ME for knowledge and when he got what he wanted, he BETRAYED ME and BURNED MY PHYSICAL BODY ALIVE. And now I’m TRAPPED. HERE. **FOREVER.** I just want to GO HOME.” 

The being’s pitiful story strikes up feelings of sympathy within Wally. He knows what being alone is like. He knows that loneliness is an awful feeling—and human or not, nobody should have been subjected to endless isolation in this maddening place, as Bill has. Like he has too. 

Still though. Wally doesn’t trust him.

But… maybe he can. In time. 

Just _maybe_. 

“How about this,” Wally says. “At this point, I’m pretty sure this isn’t a dream or a hallucination. Unfortunately.” 

To that, Bill Cipher blows another loud raspberry, simultaneously emitting a series of cackles at Wally’s ‘dumbness’. Wally shuts him up with a raised eyebrow. The triangle hurriedly gestures for him to continue, eagerness evident. 

“But! If you can prove to me that your story is true and that my powers are really what you say they are, I’ll consent to take you back home. Where _you_ belong. But if—and _only_ _if_ —you gain my trust.” 

Bill tilts himself sideways curiously, limbs dangling. 

“I belong to the same dimension you do, kid. Why’d ya think I was so excited when I found out you could DREAM? There’s only one species who looks like you do and can DREAM, and that’s the human meatsacks from timestream FXD!!!” 

_Timestream?_ Wally shakes his head, refusing to be sidetracked. He’d save those questions for later. 

“Whatever it is, I can’t say I’m thrilled about being stuck in this place with just a floating triangle for company. But I don’t exactly know how to get us out, or if I even should…” 

“Bah! Piece of cake! Just allow me into your mind for one minute and I’ll show you!”

Wally shakes his head. Did this manic triangle really think he was that dumb? 

“And let you use me to return to wherever it is you were banished from? No way.” He can’t shake the feeling that whatever this ‘friend’ did to Bill, it hadn’t been without good reason. 

“Oh, kid! If I could go against the terms of a DEAL, I would have already taken over your mind and be done with it, say, oh—five hours ago,” Bill chirps, a pocket watch materialising in his hand. Five _hours_? “And fair warning kid! I can only do what you state so you’d better make your terms and conditions CRYSTAL CLEAR! Capisce?” 

Wally frowns. A deal? He was beginning to suspect Bill was like some kind of sly, nefarious conman who tricked people to get his way. 

The hero in him tells him to stay here, trapped with Bill, at least until he has a clearer picture of the full story behind the triangle’s mysterious past. For the sake of the greater good, it would probably be a wise decision to leave things as they were, to let fate steer its course. 

But then again, he had no idea where he was, what had become of Artemis, Uncle Barry, his team and everybody. He was alone. Doomed to maybe never see his loved ones again, if he stayed put. There was no way to access information either, no internet or technology he could use. And while Bill claimed he _had_ the power to move in between dimensions, he hadn’t the faintest idea how. 

It was selfish of him. But Wally wanted to try.

“Ten seconds,” Wally says resolutely. “You get ten seconds to move us to where you claim my powers come from, to dimension four. Show me you’re telling the truth. And that’s _it_. You can’t go anywhere else, you can’t interact with _anyone,_ human or being or any other form of sentient life. We go, and then we come back _here_.”

Bill nods without hesitation. “I’m sold! We have a deal!” 

He floats down before Wally, hand outstretched again. 

This time, Wally takes it, flinching as blue fire envelops their joined limbs. Oddly enough, it doesn’t hurt, leaving only a slightly ticklish sensation on his skin, through his suit. 

And to his amazement, Bill _vanishes_. The void is quiet and deathly still without him, Wally the only remaining source of movement and life. 

‘WOW, YOU’RE PACKING A TON OF DEADWEIGHT IN HERE.’

He gasps, raising a hand to touch his head. This was different from the times he had been mind-linked with M’gann. Where her presence felt like a warm, gentle nudge in his brain, Bill’s was more like having a bucket of ice water dumped on your body, sending unpleasant shivers down your spine. 

“Ten seconds starts now!” He warns. 

‘UP, UP AND HERE WE GOOO!’

△

He feels it. 

A force. 

A _speedforce_. 

Wally’s eyes fly open, his body enveloped by a warm, soothing golden light. His molecules are vibrating with happiness. Time no longer existed. His normally restless mind was quelled by the feeling of being _home_. 

The gold merges with a mirage of blues, pinks and greens, the energy flowing through his body as he feels another presence in his mind, calm and soothing and welcoming him to where he knows he’s always belonged. Tears well up in his eyes at the beauty of it. It feels like a mother’s embrace, a lover’s touch, a friend’s comforting words, all at the same time. 

Wally has never felt more loved. 

‘TIME’S UP, KID!’

△

All too soon, it’s over, and Wally is back in the depressing white void of nothingness. He wants to scream. 

He wants to go back. 

Back _home_. 

“Woah!” Bill does a little somersault in the air as he is expelled from Wally’s mind. “Yeesh, kid! Turn off the waterworks, will ya?”

Wally wipes his face, shellshocked. He is crying. Still. 

“It was beautiful.” He whispers reverently to himself. If there was a Heaven for speedsters, that would have been it. “The speedforce.”

“I think you mean DIMENSION FOUR. How many times do I gotta repeat myself, huh?” Bill demands, his accent briefly resembling a disgruntled Italian mobster’s. It snaps Wally out of his reverie. 

“Okay. Okay, you were right,” Wally croaks. “I could feel it. My powers, they responded. I believe you.” 

“Ah, those words are music to my ears, Westie! Glad to hear you finally had a change of heart! So why don’t we make that final deal and we can BOTH get going?”

Wally shakes his head. 

“I said I believe you—about my powers. Not about your history, not about your intentions or what you _actually_ plan to do if I agree.” 

Bill appearifies an armchair, sinking into it. He doesn’t reply with any insulting quip about Wally’s knowledge, neither does he fly into one of his sudden rages at his refusal to comply. 

“You know,” Bill starts. Wally tenses, preparing himself for the worst. “The old me would’ve been MAD. Do you have any idea what I’m like when I’m **MAD?** ” 

Wally holds his ground, fists clenched. 

“Yeah.” 

“Good! And don’t you forget it!” Bill happily takes a sip out of a martini glass, crossing his legs comfortably. “But since I’ve got all the time in the world, and you’re confined within a pathetically MORTAL body, I’ll play it your way! You and I are gonna be best pals in no time, Lightning Rod!” 

Wally feels his stomach grumbling with hunger, right on cue. Shit! He’d forgotten. He needed food. How the hell was he going to eat in this place? To relieve himself? To sleep?

Was Bill planning to starve him until he consented to the deal? 

The triangle cackles gleefully, noticing his distraught expression. 

“Relax, kid! Deals don’t work that way. You’ve got to be a hundred per cent willing. And honestly, possessing a dying, decaying human body doesn’t really sound fun to me! It wouldn’t last a single jump between worlds. By the time I’m done with you, you’ll be begging for me to enter your mind. In fact, I’ll prove it to you, right now!”

Bill snaps his fingers and the white void melts away, to reveal a cosy, warm cabin completely furnished with a bearskin rug across the floor and a retro-looking television, of all things. The smell of pine overtakes his senses and Wally would have been absolutely convinced they were in some fancy bed and breakfast in the woods if it weren’t for the fact that the windows showed nothing beyond them but white. 

Another apparition then, just larger, courtesy of the mysterious Bill Cipher. 

“Go on, Westie! There’s running water and electricity, a shower, a toilet, I even left you some fresh threads since meatsacks seem to be so bothered about BEING NAKED. Food’s in the fridge and when you’re done, I’ll be waiting _riiiight_ here.” 

Bill calmly sits on the yellow sofa. It looks almost comical due to how small he is, like a toy left behind by a child. 

“Go! Go! Don’t hold back on my account, red. This is all for you.” The infuriating thing _winks_ at him (how he did that with one eye was a mystery he’d leave unsolved). Wally scrambles away up the stairs with his superspeed, relieved to be spared from Bill’s oddities, even for just a few minutes. 

‘What would Uncle Barry do?’ He thinks, scrubbing himself clean of filth and sweat with the soap he’d found by the sink (honey and milk scented) ( _really_ ). Wally still looks up to the man who’d been his childhood hero—still his hero—and though he tries his hardest, he really can’t imagine Uncle Barry, or anyone else for that matter, being stuck in the situation he’s in right now. 

He yanks on the itchy pink furry sweater covered in patches of glitter and a giant rainbow sewn onto the front. It looked almost like a twelve-year-old had made it, though he had to admit it was rather cute, something someone like M’gann would have loved during her getting-used-to-Earth-by-obsessing-over-pop-culture phase. There’s a pair of jeans but no underwear. No mask was provided, but if Wally was going to be stuck here for the foreseeable future, he didn’t see the harm in letting Bill see his face. The thing already knew his name, anyway. 

Wally leaves his suit on the bed (keeping his trusty goggles around his neck) and runs back downstairs to the kitchen. The wooden floor is cold beneath his uncovered feet and he makes a mental note to ask Bill for shoes later (along with some briefs) (did Bill even understand the concept of undergarments?). To his relief, the fridge is stocked full of fruit, vegetables, cheese, bacon, chicken, ham and even a few loaves of bread wrapped in plastic. 

Cooking didn’t sound very appealing (he’s not so sure if there’s oil or if the gas stove actually works anyway). So he retrieves the bread, reading the words printed on the wrapping. ‘Gravity Falls Bakehouse’. Huh. That was oddly specific. And the same place Bill had mentioned during his angry tirade. This could be a clue. 

Wally speedily makes a stack of sandwiches and tucks the wrapper into the pocket of his jeans. He’s not sure how he can keep things hidden from a being of ‘pure energy’ always lurking around in the same vicinity, but he’ll try. 

“Everything swell, Westie? Need a little hand?”

He jumps. 

“Er, yeah. Thanks for the clothes and the uh, food. Would you mind making me some shoes?” Wally decides to save the underwear talk for later, his stomach already starting to clench painfully in hunger. 

“Sure thing, kid!” Bill points to the ground, where a pair of rather worn looking bottle-green bedroom slippers are waiting. 

“Thanks,” Wally says again, slipping on the shoes and taking a seat at the small dining table. He notices the slightly peeling wallpaper at the corner of the room where it connects with the slanted ceiling and frowns. But just as he blinks, it’s gone. “So… this house…”

“Yeah? What about it, red?”

“I have a name. It’s Wally. _Use it_.” He grumbles, biting into his first sandwich. Mmm. So good. Food _good_. 

“Aw, don’t take it personally, _Westie_ ,” Bill snickers. He doesn’t bat his eye at Wally’s eating habits. “I give everyone nicknames. Sometimes more than one, if I really like ‘em. Makes talking to you PATHETIC meatsacks way more entertaining.” 

“Anyway! This house,” Wally swallows. Yum. “Someplace you’ve been before?”

Bill hums thoughtfully. 

“Not exactly! I guess you could say it was inspired by a place I’ve _seen_ —needed SOME reference on how to make a livable habitat for your weak human body,” He ignores Wally’s indignant _hey_! “Why, don’t you like it?”

“No, it’s fine. Perfect even.” Wally’s always dreamed of retiring somewhere deep in the beauty of the forests in a charming wooden hut, chopping his own firewood and getting lost in nature. Artemis would have hated it, he knew. She was a city dweller. Most of his friends were. 

“Glad to hear that, kid. Now stuff your piehole, there’s plenty more from where that came from!” Bill snaps his fingers and Wally squeaks through a mouthful of bread when snacks of all kinds pile up before him. Jolly ranchers, pretzels, sour cream potato chips… he was in speedster food heaven.

“Enjoy! I’ll be EVERYWHERE so if you’re in the mood to talk, just give me a call!” Bill tips his hat in farewell and for a horrifying second, the entire world goes _sideways_. Wally chokes on his sandwich as he scrambles for leverage, clinging onto his chair for dear life. Thankfully, the furniture and his food (precious, precious food) stay put. 

He crashes back painfully onto the floor when Bill rights his headgear, looking uncharacteristically sheepish. “WHOOPS! Forgot about that! Anyway. You know the drill! Remember, REALITY IS AN ILLUSION, THE UNIVERSE IS A HOLOGRAM, BUY GOLD, BYEEEEEE!”

And he vanishes in a bright flash of blue light, leaving Wally to his food, and his thoughts. 

_I’m fucked._


End file.
